


first impressions

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e02 Purpose in the Machine, F/M, Fix-It, oneshot with additions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-11 08:25:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15968510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: “Uh,” Skye says slowly, “should we be worried about any of that?” In a stage whisper she asks, “Is Will a bad guy?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A happy ending birthday fic for Jemma because I am so often mean to her.

Jemma’s lungs ache with her first breath, but it’s a good pain, the sort that tells her she’s _home_.

“Fitz,” she sighs, feeling his arm around her, holding her up. They’re in a hole, half covered by gravel.

There are voices up above. The team, relieved. Fitz’s laughter echoes in the hole. All of it is lovely, sounds she never thought to hear again.

None of it is what she wants to hear.

She stretches out, searching with her foot, and is rewarded with a cry of pain that elicits startled shouts from up above and causes Fitz to tighten his arm around her.

“You’re _hurt_ ,” she says, pushing away from Fitz to brush the stones and dust off of Will.

He hisses in pain and looks past her, giving Fitz a smile that is far more charming in real, steady light than it ever was on the planet. Jemma might be in some trouble here if all his qualities are equally heightened.

“You must be Fitz,” he says. “I’m Will.”

Luckily SHIELD agents deal with bigger shocks on a regular basis—not _much_ bigger but enough that in short order the others are pulling the three of them out of the hole.

“I feel like this is karma,” Will says when his bloody leg is in full view on the stone floor.

“Might be,” she says, taking the medkit from Bobbi. Her adrenaline’s worn off and the frantic run across the valley is getting to her, not to mention the fear of facing It so close. Having something familiar to do eases the shaking of her hands. “Look at that,” she says brightly, pulling a small bottle from the box to flash it at Will, “alcohol.”

“All labeled and everything with that cute little eagle. Almost like this isn’t just a dream.”

“It’s not.” She splashes some alcohol on a square of gauze and begins cleaning the wound with a little more gusto than necessary. Will, expectantly, gasps in pain. “And _that_ was karma.”

“That was payback,” he says. “And I was trying to save your life.”

“You threw a spear at me.”

“You were gonna get yourself killed! I was a whole lot nicer than It would’ve been.”

“Oh, and what were you doing five minutes ago?”

To that, he has no answer at all. They both know he would’ve gotten himself killed, sent her on ahead to safety and stayed behind to face It with nothing but a single bullet and a prayer. The fool.

“Uh,” Skye says slowly, “should we be worried about … any of that?” In a stage whisper she asks, “Is Will a bad guy?”

Jemma sighs, preparing a needle to suture the cut It left on Will’s leg. “No, Will is not a bad guy. He is an astronaut who has spent the last fourteen years stranded on an alien world.”

“Hi,” Will says, giving the others a little wave. And then he tenses up as she starts to work.

“The monolith is a portal through space, by the way.”

“Yeah, we figured that out,” Fitz says softly, his tone strange.

“Fourteen _years_?” Bobbi echoes.

“Damn,” Mack says.

“And you threw a spear at Simmons,” Coulson says and that-

It’s one of his fatherly tones, the one he uses when he’s being protective of them. It reminds her of the days when Fitz was in a coma and the doctor Fury left behind would take Coulson aside to discuss options. He refused to hear any of them that weren’t a full recovery.

She never thought she’d hear that tone again.

“Hey.” Bobbi is there, taking the needle from her to finish the job. And Skye is on her other side, wrapping an arm around her and providing a much needed shoulder.

To her great shame, she cries. Right there in front of her team while there’s work to be done.

Will’s hand finds hers, squeezing tight through the pain and providing her an anchor in the sea of her own emotions. He’s very good at that.

“He did it to protect me,” she says, finally answering Coulson’s implied question. She gives Will a fragile smile before turning to the others, who are hovering rather worriedly.

And who are also fewer than she would have expected. There are faces missing, but she knows that right now her team will be suspicious of the man she just came back from an alien world with. Her questions can wait.

“We weren’t alone on the planet and, at the time, I was under the impression that Will was delusional.”

“I did put you in a cage.”

She turns sharply, pinning him with a look which clearly communicates that he is _not helping_.

“Again,” she says to the team, “to protect me. And himself. The creature is known to take on the appearance of others.”

“I didn’t actually think you were It,” Will says. “I mean, at first I thought you were a hallucination and then maybe that It had already gotten inside your head and infected you-”

Jemma sets her hand down gently just above the first sutures she made, just close enough to bring on the shadow of pain. “Will. Love. You know that this is basically the same as meeting my parents for the first time and you’re not exactly making the best impression.”

“Jemma,” he says, mimicking her tone. “Sunshine.”

She sputters a laugh at the truly ridiculous nickname.

“This is the most people I’ve been in the same room as since I went to see _The Fast and the Furious_ the weekend before my pre-mission quarantine started. I miss talking to people more than you do.”

Jemma knows she should be dealing with the others, reassuring them that Will isn’t a threat, filling them in on everything that’s happened and getting filled in in return. But she finds herself adjusting her legs so that she’s sitting more comfortably on the hard ground. Skye drops the loose arm she has around her, resting a hand instead on the floor behind Jemma in case she needs further support.

“You’re making that up,” Jemma says.

“No way. I totally miss people more than you.”

“About the movie,” she clarifies. “The last film you saw was not one of the Fast and Furious franchise.”

Will’s eyes light up. “It’s a _franchise_? How many are there?” He looks to the others, either expecting more up-to-date information or, more likely, that the boys will know better than she will.

“Seven,” Mack says.

“Damn.” He looks to her. “You promised me marathons.”

“I promised you Lord of the Rings.”

He shrugs. “We can do that too. It doesn’t look like I’ll be walking much for a while.”

“Definitely keep the pressure off it,” Bobbi says, snapping the medkit shut. “I wanna give the both of you a full work up, but unless there are any other medical issues I need to know about, it should be safe to move you to the Zephyr.”

Jemma answers her questioning look with a shake of her head. The amount of relief it garners is somewhat surprising. Granted, she’s been gone for months, but she managed to climb out of that hole without incident and she’s been carrying on with Will for nearly a quarter of an hour now.

“All right then,” Coulson says. “Mr. Daniels, I’m afraid there are gonna be a few stairs.”

“Oh my God,” Will says while Mack and Bobbi help him to his feet. Skye helps Jemma to her own. “ _Stairs_.” He’s grinning like a kid at Christmas. “I love this planet.”

Jemma can’t say she disagrees and hangs back so that she can be sure he doesn’t have any trouble on the way up. Skye hesitates at her side before moving to join Coulson across the room, and it’s with conflicted feelings that Jemma sees why.

“Fitz,” she says. She moves to hug him, to _thank him_ for all he’s done, but he shoves his hands in his pockets, looking as eager for a hug as a porcupine.

“So. An astronaut.”

Jemma’s heart sinks. She let herself think about this once. A week after the bottle broke, she was doing laundry and caught herself wondering what it would be like to come home and face Fitz with Will by her side. But she barely got into the fantasy before the reality that she would never see Fitz again left her crying so badly she had to muffle the sound in a shirt or bring Will running.

Perhaps she should have pushed through the pain and given it a touch more thought.

“I know,” she says softly, wishing they could do this somewhere the others can’t so easily overhear, “that we had a date.”

“That was months ago.”

“I know, but all the same-”

“You love him.” His mouth snaps shut, almost as if he’d like to draw back the accusation—or perhaps only the tone of it because when he speaks again he’s decidedly more friendly. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t- It’s only been a few weeks that we’ve-” She looks to the stairs. Will’s disappeared up them and it might be only the months of isolation that make her heart constrict with the thought of him somewhere she isn’t, in a space she doesn’t know for certain is safe.

“Jemma.” Fitz’s mouth is curved in an expression too sad to be called a smile. “Do you know how long I’ve wished you’d look at me like that?”

She feels weak. From the run, the fight, this conversation. “I’m sorry,” she says. She doesn’t know what else to say. Perhaps if she had worked up the courage to try a year ago… But then, perhaps if she had they would have been properly together before her abduction and this reunion would be ten times more awkward for it.

He moves in, taking her arm to support her. “Me too,” he says. “This place is old, the stairs are uneven.”

She isn’t sure whether she should, given she’s just broken up with him without ever having dated him at all, but she can’t really help leaning into him as they go.

“I think you’ll like him,” she says softly.

He makes a sound she knows well as he’s made it each and every time she’s shown a romantic interest in someone he considered less than worthy of her. Perhaps she should have realized his feelings sooner given that he’s _never_ considered anyone worthy of her.

“Fat chance of that. But he saved your life, so I don’t hate him.”

She squeezes his hand as they step out onto level ground. It seems they’re in a castle. How strange. “Thank you,” she says. “For that and for saving us.”

He makes that sound again so she doesn’t say any more, only allows him to lead her outside to the Zephyr, which turns out to be a plane. A very _large_ plane.

And Fitz knows her well enough that the moment it comes into view he begins telling her about its construction, how he personally made sure it was safe as houses, that it’s the finest aircraft ever built. He also explains the containment pods, constructed largely due to the outbreak of Inhuman transitions worldwide. Will is already inside the one in the cargo bay, hooked up to an IV and looking painfully small.

“Your turn,” Bobbi says when they arrive, motioning Jemma to the vacant bench on the other side of the pod. Not that there’s much room between them at all. Jemma barely has to reach to tangle her fingers with Will’s.

“This is familiar,” he says. He’s right. It’s very much like their set-up back in the caves.

“It’s better,” she says, glad even for the pain of the needle entering her skin because it means she’s _home_.

Will makes a noise of disagreement. He stretches and she wiggles closer until his lips brush her ear. “No sharing.”

She laughs loudly, the sound echoing off the stark walls.

Either Bobbi needs more supplies than she had on hand or she simply wants to give them some privacy, because she disappears moments later, leaving them seemingly alone.

Jemma knows they’re not. They can’t really be. Even if none of the team are hovering out of sight beyond the pod’s walls—doubtful—there are cameras everywhere.

Perhaps Will doesn’t realize that or he simply doesn’t care because he squeezes her hand to gain her attention and then asks, “How’s Fitz?”

She drags in a long breath, remembering the hollow sound of his voice when he said he’d figured out the monolith was a portal. She was so busy with Will she didn’t notice it at the time—or didn’t want to. “He’s … Fitz. I think—I _hope—_ he’ll be all right.”

Will smiles. “There’s that hope.” His thumb trails over her knuckles. “What about you? You okay?”

Beneath them, the Zephyr is humming to life, lifting off the ground to take them back to base, to beds and showers and cheeseburgers. She looks to Will, pale and here beside her. Safe and alive. Home. She answers honestly, “Never been better.”

 


	2. sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil, later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this a year prior to chapter one but they fit so well I couldn't help but link them. Unfortunately, they didn't mesh quite perfectly so this has been edited somewhat and a rather key detail of the original removed. You can find the unedited version on my tumblr [here](http://ilosttrackofthings.tumblr.com/post/165569302584/sunrise-11), but the majority of the drabble remains the same so it's really up to you whether you want the standalone version or the one that meshes with this fic.

 Phil hovers in the shadows, keeps his steps light where his target’s are heavy, dragging. Probably if Bobbi were here, she’d be forcing the man—Daniels, his ragged uniform says—back into bed, but Bobbi’s  _not_  here. She’s a level above, helping Skye and Mack deal with Fitz, who’s pretending he’s fine but who broke three beakers in the lab before they took off. So it’s just Phil left to watch things down here. He could probably put someone else on it but … he can’t. It’s not in him to pass on this job to someone else, not after the last few months.

So he follows Daniels on his short journey out of the cargo hold, drops back next to one of the storage pods while Daniels stumbles to a porthole. The guy’s rough, Ward going crazy in Vault D rough, so it’s no surprise that he puts his hand to the wall the second he stops. And that’s all he does, just stands at the window while beyond him the sky is turning an off-white as the sun struggles to come up over the horizon they’re flying away from. It’s on the tip of Phil’s tongue to ask what he’s doing when he hears another dragging step.

Simmons is in better shape than Daniels—no surprise if what she managed to tell them about him having been on that planet for fourteen years is true—but she still wavers on her feet as she crosses the hold. She doesn’t lean against the wall though, she wraps her arms around him. He puts his arm around her in return, settling her comfortably in his side.

It’s not a surprise, not with the way they were talking to and looking at each other back on the ground—she called him _love_. But where that was all tinted by giddy relief, this moment is a hell of a lot more private. Phil feels like a voyeur just standing here watching them hold each other.

In the quiet down here, Simmons’ voice carries easily, forcing Phil to hear words he’d rather ignore for politeness’ sake. “I told you you’d see the sun today.”

Daniels lets out a sound somewhere between a wheeze and a laugh. “You are not seriously taking credit for this.”

“I said-”

Phil swears his heart stops at the fond smile Daniels turns on her. “Totally different sun. Does not count.”

“Does.”

“Does not.”

“Does.”

It’s not an argument. It’s a mild exchange, full of warmth and camaraderie and, yeah, a whole lot of love.

“Fine,” Daniels says, holding her a little closer. “You win.”

“Because I’m right,” Simmons says leadingly.

“Because you’re right.”

For a few seconds they’re quiet, just watching while the sky slips steadily towards gold, his chin resting on her head, her hand holding his over her shoulder. Phil’s thinking of taking his chances and making a break for the cargo bay.

“Don’t do that again,” she says softly.

“Don’t-”

“And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.” She twists so she can face him, but for all the anger in her expression, she’s closer to him than ever. “You could’ve  _died_.”

Phil knows the look on Daniels’ face. He’s seen it on hundreds of agents. Hell, he probably wore it himself on the hellicarrier.

“You would’ve made it home.”

She reaches up, cups his cheek in her hand. “But I wouldn’t have. Not really. Not without you.”

Phil’s heart constricts in his chest as Daniels’ expression grows sad. He’s terrified he knows what Simmons means: not that she wouldn’t have made it physically back to Earth, but that without him, there wouldn’t have been any point.

“Jemma…,” Daniels says, his voice cracking on her name.

“I love you.” Her expression breaks and she pulls him closer. “This doesn’t change anything. I love you.”

There’s a part of Phil that wants to hate Daniels. Not that it’s his fault—who could really blame the guy for falling for Simmons, especially in those kinds of conditions—but his very existence is right now breaking Fitz’s heart. Phil’s always gonna resent him a little for that, no matter the look he puts on Simmons’ face. 

But right now? The way Daniels holds her like he’s just been given the most precious gift in the world, the way he closes his eyes like he’s just gotta savor this moment … maybe Phil resents him a little less.

“This is the part where you say something,” Simmons whispers. Even with their foreheads pressed together, Phil can still hear the words.

“I have loved you … for so long,” Daniels says. He shakes his head. “So long.”

Simmons makes a sound like a whine, and Daniels kisses her once, just a chaste little peck, before turning her back towards what is, by now, a real sunrise.

 


End file.
